The Travels of Wind and Water
by Racke
Summary: The adventures of a simple rowboat, lost at sea. A metaphor taken to a new level.


The Travels of Wind and Water

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

XXX

I'm nothing special, just another rowboat floating by the pier, waiting to carry a few people across the waves.

I suppose I might've dreamed of adventures once upon a time, long ago, when my paint was barely dry and the water tickled my keel for the first time, but I'm satisfied with my life. The forgotten life of a rowboat rarely used, carefully crafted to never risk being bogged under the surface by rainwater.

Yes, it's not the most glamorous life, but it's calm, and there's usually something routinely interesting passing through within view.

Of course, then something just had to come around and completely turn this peaceful existence of mine on its head.

Wind. Lightning. Rain. Waves. And even more wind, tearing at the old mooring line with ruthless enthusiasm.

Until it breaks.

Startling slightly, I find myself staring stupidly at the only thing that'd been keeping me out of the storm's grasp. Torn rope, ending in a short stump.

I'm allowed a moments peace as I try to wrap my mind around what has just happened, but then the storm grabs me once more and the wind drags me out into the chaotic maelstrom that is usually a peaceful river.

Waves are pushing me into dizzying patterns until I don't even know which way to the shore. And the river isn't _nearly_ wide enough that that ought to be a problem.

It's a lot harder to grasp a proper hold of time when you're surrounded by violent chaos and forced to spend every moment trying to avoid striking rock. It gets even harder when the dark clouds overhead are thick enough that you can't be entirely sure when the signs of morning begin to appear.

But finally, _finally_, the storm pauses for breath, allowing me a moment of peace underneath the darkened clouds.

It's still too dark to see, but the rain has stopped, the wind is calming, the white on the waves are disappearing, the lightning has stopped thundering above me.

Taking the lull as a chance to finally rest, to recover from the violence of being dragged along with the maddening chaos, I let myself drift along with the rapidly calming waves, feeling them slowly lull me into a near-sleep.

I wake by the feel of sunshine on my hull, endlessly relieved to have outlasted the storm. Glancing around to spot the boat that ought to be moving out towards me to bring me back to the pier, I find myself confused at the lack of familiar presences.

... Wait... where's the shore?

Spinning around my axis, I see nothing but water stretching to the horizon.

A horizon.

I've never seen a proper horizon before. It's... like the water flows into the sky. Almost as if, were I to reach that place, I'd be able to ride the current into the blueness of the sky.

Stricken breathless at the sight, I drift along uncaring of my destination.

The waters are never calm here it seems, but at the same time the waves aren't violent in their constant presence. Big, round, causing me to rise and sink in their wake, they simply continue on towards the unknown.

Where am I? Did the storm seriously just wash me out to sea? No way. That can't be right... right? There must've been some kind of mistake, there's no way that this could've possible happened to me.

Except... it sure _looks_ like that's what happened.

Of all the unbelievable luck in the world, it just had to happen to me, didn't it? What a pain.

XXX

Drifting through the ocean isn't what I imagined it'd be when I was younger.

There aren't any giant sea-beasts trying to capsize me, for example.

Which is a good thing, obviously. I couldn't exactly fight off some ancient monster from the abyss if one were to appear, so I'm thankful that so far there hasn't been any problems on that front.

The waves are also a lot less frightening than I first assumed. Or... well, that's probably experience talking, it's just too much effort to be terrified every time another wave rolls underneath me and softly carries me upwards and then downwards as the valley behind it makes an entrance. It's just _easier_ to not pay attention to something like that, even if I'm still nervous about what might happen should a storm appear and whip the gentle giants into a violent frenzy.

I'm imagining it's going to be a both horrifying and brief experience.

No, there're no great adventures out here.

Beauty, oh yes, there's a lot of beauty in the rising sun and setting sun, in the giant waves moving resolutely around me, in the silvery mists making seeing almost impossible.

But no real adventures. There's just this... peaceful drifting.

I could get used to this, I think.

XXX

I don't really have any desperate need to be anywhere, and even if I did, I don't know where I ought to start looking for a way to return. I'm trapped, lost on the sea.

But even so, even if I don't know where I am or where I'm going, I don't feel especially miserable about it.

Everything is just so new, so... peculiarly beautiful in comparison to the river I once traveled.

There was power in the river, I would never argue against that, but my river had always been a calm one, not especially big and not especially rapid. My river had been beautiful, in its own everyday manner. But in comparison to the casualness of the impossible power lingering within the sea's supposedly gentle ripples...

I'd grown up on the river, it was a safe haven, and it accepted all who entered it with the same kind of negligent serenity.

The sea... the sea didn't accept anyone. It didn't allow itself to be tamed in even the vaguest of ways. It just _was_. And everything trying to enter it, to drift through it. They were all ignored. The sea was too big to bother with all the pointlessness of the unimaginably small creatures traversing it.

The river didn't much care either, but it was small, and treated those who entered it as guests. Not particularly bothering to remember the many names of its visitors, but generally enjoying itself alongside them. The sea just... _ignored_ everything around it. We weren't guests or visitors or someone who it could enjoy itself along side. We were the tiny pebbles that it didn't bother to count when it decided to have a little fun and ended up turning a fleet of the finest ships into twisted wrecks upon the cliffs.

Being near to that. Being so horrifyingly close to that. It was frightening. It didn't care if my planks were torn into sawdust, and yet in my resigned state, the only thing I could really do was go along with its whims.

It took some getting used to.

I suppose it might've been made easier by the breeze merrily pushing me along, a breeze unlike any I had experienced in the sunlit calms of the river, but still so comfortably familiar.

And so I continue to drift, happily experiencing beauty that I'd once only heard tales of from those few ships that sometimes sailed upriver from the ocean.

XXX

It's amazing the things and details that you find yourself recalling when your life flashes before you eyes.

Sure, I can usually remember quite a bit about my life, but I never imagined that my mind still retained so many useless _details_ of what's happened to me over the years.

Not that the distraction isn't welcome, because I'd much rather choose watching my life flash by in fascinating detail, than pay attention to the gigantic, frothing waves crashing down around me as what had once been a gentle and mischievously friendly breeze has enthusiastically decided that it'd much rather classify itself as a full-blown hurricane.

I feel vaguely betrayed.

But that's mostly hidden beneath levels upon levels of sheer and utter mind-numbing terror.

Which is why I'm happy for the distraction that is my life flashing before my eyes. I've lived a reasonably calm life after all, and it's very soothing to find myself reliving the peaceful moments instead of paying attention to the horrifying chaos cascading around me.

I knew there was a reason why the older boats once told us younger ones that only idiots wanted to visit the sea for any stretch of time.

If it weren't for the fact that I have no idea which direction is land, and that I'm fairly certain that trying to land when a storm is raging is the height of folly, then I would be hurrying desperately back towards my peaceful river. Where I would then travel so far upstream that I would never get dragged out into the sea once more.

As it is, however. I instead find myself creaking panicky as I pray to whatever god is out there to let the raging wind get bored soon and go cause chaos around some other innocent boat.

I'm willing to admit that I'm not a noble sort of boat. I'm rather selfish in fact, and if getting away from this means that I'll have to foist over this horrible experience on someone else, then I'm going to be hoisting with all my might.

XXX

I hear it long before I see it, though that is most likely because of the mist.

Its foghorn is loud enough that I would've nearly expected ripples to appear on the surface, had I still been in the mirror-blank calm of my river, rather than the calm but persistent waves of the sea.

But when I see it-... It's just-... it's so _big_!

I-... I don't think it could've _fit_ on my river, even ignoring that it'd immediately run aground due to the river's lack of depth.

No, this-... this is a ship that has been made to weather the very sea itself.

It cuts through the waves, slices the ocean's ever-present hills and valleys so effortlessly, the foghorn again alerting what must be half the world of its presence.

Its hull is made of steel, and it towers over me unlike anything I ever imagined, probably taller than the mast of a sailboat as it emerges from the morning mists.

I don't speak the language, I can't tell what it says as it passes me, but I can guess.

Or, well, if the ship is _polite_, then I suppose I can guess the gist of what it said.

Mostly because right about that time, I realize just what kind of wake a gigantic ship like that can cause, and exactly what it'd be like to be exposed to it for a humble rowboat like myself.

My guess went somewhere along the lines of. "Be careful."

Struggling to remain reasonably steady at the onslaught of sudden waves, I catch the briefest glimpse of the ship's name before it vanishes into the mist once again. Like a silent ghost.

'Nagato'. It feels perhaps a tiny bit strange for some reason, but it suits the ghost-like ship that looks like it can overcome anything.

Oddly comforted at learning the ship's name, I continue to drift peacefully through the mist, reminding myself to keep an eye out for lanterns. I'm not alone at the sea after all, even if it sometimes feels like it, and I don't have any lanterns of my own to let others avoid me of their own volition.

XXX

Their calls make my hull vibrate.

I've finally found the sea monsters that I heard such tales of so long ago.

They're big. No, that doesn't quite do them justice. They're _big_. Their tail-fins are big enough to crush me into a big collection of splinters should I get too close, their calls echo amazingly underneath the waves, and I just saw one of them swallow a patch of ocean that I'm horribly glad that I didn't inhabit.

It's frightening, but they don't seem interested in me, chasing a prey I cannot see, and though a few of them appear vaguely curious about my presence, they don't approach me.

They call to each other, they dive, they surface, and I wonder at how the sea monsters appear so much like the gigantic waves surrounding us in their gentle temperament.

I hope that I'll be far far away before anything drives them to anger.

Though I was built to survive rain and wind and a bit of waves, I wasn't designed to survive sea monster attacks after all.

Still, they make a majestic sight to behold.

XXX

It seems like the wind has once again found itself bored with the monotony of calm seas, because I'm again struggling to keep myself away from the breaking waves around me.

Oh, but there's a slight difference this time.

You see, the waves are breaking _over_ something else. They're not simply collapsing from the forces of the wind as it whips them into a frenzy, they're being broken against something else.

And I'm starting to realize just how terrifying it really is to desperately veer around the jagged and most definitely inhospitable rocks that appear out of the constantly moving sea.

In case you couldn't figure it out on your own, it's mindbogglingly terrifying.

Still, it's not like I haven't grown used to dodging bad things over the course over the last few months, and it's not technically the first time I've come close to a reef, though coming close to a reef in the middle of a storm is a bit new.

It gives a completely different perspective to what was once a rather peaceful place to navigate carefully around. Mostly because it's not peaceful at all, and navigating carefully around anything gets fairly close to doing the impossible when you're not entirely sure how deep the reef goes and where the waves start and the valleys begin and there's so much foam spreading across the pitch-black surface that it's nearly impossible to spot the jagged rocks before they pierce my hull.

By the time the inevitable finally happens, and I strike rock, it comes nearly as a relief.

With the water rushing in, filling me, I decide on a different course of action.

I aim _towards_ the reef instead of attempting to continue to dodge around it.

Because with a leaking hull, the sea will swallow me without mercy, whilst the shore might allow me to rest in peace.

For a moment, the wind manages to increase its speed even further, whipping around crazily, and very nearly _launching_ me across a wave and up above the most jagged of rocks, landing me in near-safety on top of the rough gravels of the beach.

I'm not entirely sure what happens after that, too exhausted to think about it, simply slipping quietly away into oblivion.

XXX

"How do you think it came here?" A sweet voice asks.

"Well, the storm last night might've carried it across the reef, but it doesn't look like there's been any people on it before that so... maybe it got loose and reefed?" Another voice answers, sounding a bit curious.

It's amazing the fact that the guy manages to guess nearly exactly what happened, simply from the fact that I don't show any signs of having carried passengers lately. Though, I must admit to the fact that I don't know what those 'signs' would've been.

The girl still seems impressed, and after a whole lot of talking and a few comments from him on not having anything better to do with his time, the young man smilingly declared that he'd be repairing me.

Ignoring the peculiar feeling of wanting that smile to get torn off his face on principle, I concentrate on wishing feverently that the guy actually has a clue on how to work with boats.

It'd be just like my luck to get me stranded in safety only for some asshole to show up and break me apart even further in his attempt to 'fix' me.

XXX

He does know what he's doing, I'll give him that. Even if it seems like he's asked others for help in figuring out just how to learn what needs to be done.

New wood replaces the broken planks. The wear and tear that has developed from the salty ocean, along with the various living things that have spread across my hull are all diligently removed.

Even the paint is properly applied to last, and I find myself marveling at it all.

It must've been years since the last time I've felt so... brilliantly perfect.

In fact, I get the feeling that I'd be quite envied if I were to return to my river and once more slide through those blank waters with the same grace that I did when I was still young.

The weather has been very clear these last few weeks, barely a breeze to be seen on the horizon, leaving the ocean lying oddly blank this close to shore.

XXX

It's time to once again touch water, and through the slight nervousness that comes with any moment where there's even the slimmest chance of me simply sinking, there's excitement.

From all my time so far out to sea, I guess it just feels so... _strange_ to not be in the water at all nowadays.

The young woman is back, smiling happily along with the young man as I touch water and remain safely afloat.

It feels good to be back in the water, though peculiarly constricting to be held from drifting away by the rope. Most likely I've just grown so used to floating along with the streams and peacefully allowing the wind to guide my path.

There's still no wind.

That makes me uncomfortable for some reason. Perhaps the oddness of not experiencing the wind is multiplied when I'm not on land, perhaps it's simply the fact that I've barely felt a breeze in such a very long time, but I miss it.

I miss the cheerful coaxing of the wind, I miss the thrill of watching the giant waves gently rise and fall around me... I just miss it.

Tugging lightly at the rope in the young man's hands, I find myself staring longingly out to sea.

XXX

Itsuki frowned slightly as he stared at the rowboat.

He wasn't sure why, but he felt as if he was... done. As if there was nothing more for him to do in regards to the odd rowboat that'd appeared that day after the storm.

Which was why he was frowning. He'd after all spent quite a bit of time and effort to make the old boat seaworthy once again, and though it'd been mostly as a way of keeping himself occupied, it felt a bit unpleasant to simply declare himself 'done'.

He didn't really have a point or reason for wanting a rowboat, it was merely an illogical feeling of possessiveness, but that didn't make it any less present.

Still... as the rowboat tugged lightly at the rope in his hands, every fiber of its being somehow exuding the desire to... go... to continue onwards, to be pulled away into the horizon.

With a glance at the girl at his side, he found himself smiling.

Love was a strange and wondrous thing, wasn't it?

XXX

I turn my attention back to shore as I hear a splash.

And find the young man wading out to me, a bewildered smile on his face.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a knife, and most gently carves a number inside my hull to go along with the ridiculously long name the young woman suggested painted at my stern. My name sounds pompously silly, but I don't necessarily dislike it, rather pleased to have received one, despite being a mere humble rowboat.

It amuses me though, that she managed to fit four 'K's into a single name.

"In case you ever need to be repaired again." He explains the numbers with a smile. "It was fun to patch you up."

Then he unties the rope from my bow, and pushes me further from shore.

I glance towards him one final time, hopelessly grateful for reasons that I don't know, and then I begin to drift outwards, back to sea, towards the horizon, to the place where the wind never truly sleeps.

Because that's my choice to make.

And finally, after drifting for so long, the wind begins to pick up, hesitantly at first, barely even daring to push me the tiniest bit from where the ocean currents are pointing me.

So I follow its lead, letting its movements guide me along with fond indulgence.

And after the briefest of pauses, the wind goes faster, pushing the giant waves into developing the slightest touch of foam at their tips.

It's good to be home.

XXX

Itsuki watched the rowboat disappearing for a long time, still smiling curiously.

Mikuru was confused at first, until he told her that it felt like the rowboat wanted to return to sea. After that, she smiled too, and decided that they ought to burn some incense for the wind goddess, to wish him safe travels.

It really wasn't a bad idea.

So they happily began making their way to the shrine of the island's local wind goddess, Haruhi, smiling and laughing all the way.

XXX

**A/n: Conceptually inspired by a phrase in "For Good" from the musical Wicked, this was the kind of story that I just had to write down.**

**Also, the rowboat's nickname could easily become "K-yon" as in "four K". And Nagato is the battleship that she was named after.**


End file.
